


The Tragic Widower

by what_a_dork_fish



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Crack, Detective!Charles, Fanart, M/M, Murder, a wild plot appears!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2020-03-17 12:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18965146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_a_dork_fish/pseuds/what_a_dork_fish
Summary: Sebastian Shaw, socialite and CEO of Shaw Pharmaceuticals, is missing. Charles has been tapped to question Shaw's widow on the man's disappearance.Except it's not a widow. It's a widower. Erik Lehnsherr.This... is probably a bad idea.





	1. The Pink Silk Slip and Sheer Robe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TurtleTotem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TurtleTotem/gifts).



> This is a stupid premise I am so sorry

This was beginning to feel like a VERY bad idea. Charles took comfort in the notion that he would be free soon, to go back to the office and get his emotions (and body) under control. God, had he ever been in a house so... _pastel_? It made Mr. Lehnsherr's magenta robe stand out even more.

“I’m sorry I’m not more useful, Detective Xavier,” Mr. Lehnsherr said, looking extremely dramatic, posed just so on his chaise lounge. “Sebastian and I don’t—didn’t even share a room these past few months.”

An artful slip, the calm part of Charles’ mind noted. The part of him that was lost in flustered embarrassment—which was distressingly prominent—made him clear his throat and say, “No, you’ve been very helpful, Mr. Lehnsherr. We’ll do our best to—” Lehnsherr shifted and Charles had a moment of panic (was he even wearing underwear?!) before remembering himself. “—To find Mr. Shaw.”

Lehnsherr smiled. “I have faith in you, detective.”


	2. Tiny White Panties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh dang it's been a while hasn't it

Charles could feel his face burning.

"It's not that I don't miss him," Mr. Lehnsherr said thoughtfully, leaning a little closer, his sheer robe opening a little more. He smelled like sandalwood. "It's just that... it's lonely. My friends are giving me space, to grieve, I suppose. But really, I think I'd prefer company. Not much." Mr. Lehnsherr smiled wryly, and sadly. "Just enough to keep me from falling into ennui. You know?"

Charles nodded automatically and tried to press closer to the wall at his back. It was very distracting when Mr. Lehnsherr looked at him from under long eyelashes, and his every move made his rather impressive physique flex. Why did he have to wear such minuscule garments? Charles bemoaned internally, focusing on Mr. Lehnsherr's nose (don't look at his lips). The sheer robes with flounces were one thing--but the tiny silk panties were just torture. Although he might not know... dear god Charles hoped he didn't know.

"Well, um, I am very sorry for your distress," Charles said, though Mr. Lehnsherr didn't seem distressed. "I think that's all we'll need from you today." His gaze went up to meet Mr. Lehnsherr's, and he had to yank it back down to the nose, before he got caught it those lovely eyes. "Uh, I-I don't think we'll need to come bother you again."

"Please, come bother me whenever you need to, Detective," Mr. Lehnsherr told him, with a little smile that might have been sad and might have been flirty. "I'm always happy to help."

Charles smiled nervously back, and escaped as quickly as possible.


	3. Poolside Talks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh no there's going to be actual story. FUCK.
> 
> Also: three drawings in this update. And backgrounds suck. :(

Charles braced himself as he was lead through the sprawling mansion to the outdoor pool. The butler practically radiated disapproval, but really, it wasn’t Charles’ fault! His captain had just heard Charles agonizing to Moira and decided Charles would be the one to break the news. Punishment, but for what?

Thinking about this brought up the memories of his last two encounters with Erik Lehnsherr. Charles’ face flushed, but he swallowed down a nervous squeak as he saw the open French doors leading to a pool.

“Detective Xavier, sir,” the butler said stiffly as they stepped outside.

“Oh, thanks, Azazel,” drawled Mr. Lehnsherr, who lay on a pink towel beside the pool. He took off his gold-rimmed sunglasses and smiled at Charles, who was struck by the fact that he actually wasn’t as embarrassed or scared as he had been. “Hello, Detective. You can leave now, ‘Zel.”

Azazel shot Charles a distrustful glare, then disappeared in a puff of smoke, which immediately wafted into Charles’ face, making him cough. Mr. Lehnsherr waited politely until Charles had his breath back to ask, “What brings you here, Detective? Do you have any news?”

 

“Um, yes.” Charles inched a little closer, clutching his notepad tighter. Why did Mr. Lehnsherr wear so much pink and purple? Also, why was he so infuriatingly charming as well as discomfiting? “We… we found your husband’s body.”

Mr. Lehnsherr went very still, his face frozen in a smile that had lost all warmth. Then he relaxed, smile shrinking. “So he’s dead,” Mr. Lehnsherr said tonelessly. “Not surprising.”

“Well, no,” Charles agreed nervously. “The captain thought it would be better for you to hear it firsthand instead of through the news. Ah, if it’s any consolation, we have a lead.”

Mr. Lehnsherr’s hands clenched for a moment, then relaxed, as he smiled brightly. “Well! That’s good! What’ll happen when you find the killer?”

Charles wondered why Mr. Lehnsherr was acting so odd, but he wasn’t sure how to ask leading questions at this time. He could always just read his… no, no, there was no concrete reason to. Instead, he answered truthfully. “There will be a criminal trial, and you’ll probably be asked to bear witness. Hopefully we can put whoever did it in prison. Mr. Lehnsherr, I also have a few more questions, now that we definitely know what happened to him.”

“Erik,” Mr. Lehnsherr said abruptly. “Call me Erik.”

“Ah… alright. Erik, can you go over what happened the night Sebastian went missing again?”

Mr. Lehnsherr stood, and Charles gulped and did his best not to blush too fiercely at how very tiny that swimsuit was. Ignoring the blush, Mr. Lehnsherr waved Charles over to a table with an umbrella and five chairs. They sat across from each other, and Charles took out his pen.

Mr. Lehnsherr’s story was the same as it had been. But this time, he didn’t sound theatrical and simpering (as well as a man of his visage could simper). He was matter-of-fact and clear, and Charles was able to ask more questions that he should’ve asked earlier. He’d questioned shirtless men before. He could get through this without the distraction of knowing that Mr. Lehnsherr was almost naked.

Finally, Charles hesitated, then met Mr. Lehnsherr’s eyes without a hint of a blush and asked firmly, “What was your relationship like?”

Mr. Lehnsherr propped his chin in his hand and stared at Charles with a sober expression for a long moment. Then he replied, flatly and truthfully.

“We were not in love. I saw it as a political move. He saw it as finally getting people off his back about getting married. He convinced me it would be better for us to at least pretend affection. Eventually it was habit, even here, in the house we shared with staff who knew we couldn’t stand each other. When he disappeared...” Mr. Lehnsherr took a breath and let it out, then said, raising his chin a little with a defiant expression, “When he disappeared, I told the staff to either lie about our relationship or be fired. I knew that was suspicious. They knew it was suspicious. But I always paid them well and made sure they had good insurance and homes and time off. Being fired for not lying over this single little thing would be harsh. No, I never cared for him. But he gave me half of his assets and access to political circles and the social elite. And if that makes me a deplorable person, so be it.”

Charles was quiet for a moment, thinking, with his eyes still on Mr. Lehnsherr’s face. Finally, he answered, “Maybe it’s deplorable to some. I come from a wealthy background, Mr—Erik. I know how people use others to get what they want and where they need to be, especially when it comes to power. So yes, I understand your reasons for your marriage and the lie. But I have to write it down in the records that you told the staff to lie. That is considered an obstruction of justice. I _should_ be writing down this entire conversation...” he tapped his pen slowly against the edge of the table, watching Mr. Lehnsherr’s every tic and expression. There, the stillness, the harsh flash, the fingers that longed to clench into a fist, the iron control. Charles nodded slowly, and continued, “But I don’t think I will.” He smiled, a tad nastily. “You’ll have to deal with the gossip journalists on your own.”

Mr. Lehnsherr actually looked surprised. And then his face fell into a dismay so genuine that Charles burst into laughter.

“I fucking forgot!” Mr. Lehnsherr groaned, putting his head in his hands. “God, they’ll be even worse once the news breaks!”

“I expect them to start pushing through the door tomorrow morning,” Charles commented airily, grinning as Mr. Lehnsherr glared at him. “Please remember to put on clothes before seven.”

“That brat from Mutant Times will be here at six, I know he will,” Mr. Lehnsherr muttered.

“Before I leave you to the tender mercies of the gossip rags—” Charles grinned again as Mr. Lehnsherr scowled “—May I speak to your staff again? Get their versions of event minus the lies.”

Mr. Lehnsherr sighed heavily and stood. “Yes, of course. They might not all match. Keep in mind that they all have their own views on Shaw.”

“I will.” Charles stood too, and held out his hand to shake. “Thank you for your help, Erik. I’ll be as discrete as possible. No one sees the notes except the lawyer and the captain.” And Moira, but he didn’t say that.

Mr. Lehnsherr smiled, a small, tired, and genuine smile. “Thank you, Detec—Charles. Good luck.” He shook Charles’ hand firmly, then said, “Most of the staff should be having lunch. I’ll ask Angel to help you get them in line. The new kids can be pretty rowdy.”

“Much obliged.” Charles smiled, and realized he really did feel much more relaxed now, and not as mindful of Mr. Lehnsherr’s body. His eyes were much more interesting.

~

Mr. Lehnsherr turned Charles over to Angel, the housekeeper, and whisked away to dress more appropriately. He’d put on a thick bathrobe in unrelieved black before he and Charles had returned to the house, and seemed much more comfortable in it. But that was not important at the moment.

Charles used just a touch of telepathy to make the staff more willing to tell the truth—he didn’t force them, though he could (his captain approved of such things). It would be a horrible breach of boundaries, mind autonomy, and a thousand other things. But, though it made him cringe inwardly, he wanted to be sure he got the truth this time. He wrote down everything, including the harshest words, the snidest remarks, the tearful guilt, the disgusted accusations. He even questioned Shaw’s personal attorney, Emma Frost, who also happened to be his mistress. She didn’t want to admit that right out, but she did drop hints that Charles picked up easily.

He did not put them together in the notes, though. So many secrets in this house… and he wasn’t sure he wanted to expose them quite yet.

Miss Frost walked him back to the front of the house, and they complained about new laws and recent rulings together, and Charles felt comfortable enough to tell her he was a mutant.

Miss Frost smiled and said, “I know. I could feel you in my head. If you haven’t told anyone, though, I won’t either.”

Charles smiled in relief. “Thank you, Miss Frost.”

They had reached the corridor to the mail hall, and Charles could see Mr. Lehnsherr descending the stairs, and then he could hear him.

“...come here,” Mr. Lehnsherr was saying coldly. “Your boss will be missing you soon, won’t he?”

“Boss knows where we are,” another voice growled, echoing in the hall. It was a familiar voice... Charles flattened himself against the wall and inched closer, on full alert. Miss Frost followed his lead, frowning faintly.

“How very unfortunate,” Mr. Lehnsherr said, his eyes narrowed and his body tense. He hadn’t put on a shirt, but he’d changed into a pair of magenta boxers. Maybe that was just how he dressed when home. Charles reached out telepathically, mapping the hall.

There was Mr. Lehnsherr, noting the faint movements that were Charles and Emma. There were two other minds, full of wariness, triumph, and hate. They were considering their guns. Charles hesitated…

Miss Frost murmured, “Detective, I know those men. They might leave if they recognize you.”

Charles bit his lip, then whispered back, “If I use my mutation, will you promise not to tell?”

“Cross my heart, hope to die,” Miss Frost replied, almost automatically. Then she cleared her throat and replied with a touch of sincere embarrassment, “Ah, yes, of course.”

“Thank you.” Charles took a breath, then walked out into the hall while one of the intruders was monologuing, something about how their boss would be glad that they killed Shaw’s boytoy.

Mr. Lehnsherr’s head immediately turned halfway, keeping the two others in view while tracking Charles’ path. Charles nodded to him and then faced the intruders as he planted himself casually beside Mr. Lehnsherr.

“Hello,” Charles said calmly, as the two men recognized him. “If I’m not mistaken, you are threatening to murder someone. Right in front of a police officer.” Charles sighed sadly and shook his head. “I thought you would’ve learned by now.”

“We’ll kill you too!” the man to the left shouted, but his voice quavered. Charles could hear his fear. “You’re… you’re inconsequential!”

Charles smiled nastily. Even at this distance, they saw it, and flinched. “Oh, I don’t believe that’s so. Do you not recall—”

Ice encased his mind, freezing him, just as he recognized the split-second decision to shoot him. He fought the ice, trying to free himself—but then a hard pressure shoved him in the chest, driving him back, and the ice vanished in time for him to hear two gunshots. He gasped as he hit the wall, discombobulated and confused—

Mr. Lehnsherr was standing in front of him, his hand outstretched, and about six bullets were suspended in midair between him and the intruders.

Charles’ breath left him in a shaky whoosh.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments = Life, Love, and Happiness


End file.
